


Self-Preservation

by diice



Series: Don't "Hey" Me [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Angst, Inner Dialogue, Internal Conflict, Ishimaru Kiyotaka as Ishida | Kiyondo, Self-Acceptance, Self-Hatred, Unreliable Narrator, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 19:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diice/pseuds/diice
Summary: Deep within the recesses of his own mind, Kiyotaka Ishimaru breaks himself down, then back up again. The identity composed of his worst traits begins to justify this.





	1. Trigger Happy Heart: Ishida

**Author's Note:**

> meant to be read alongside chapter five of don't "hey" me after a certain line. when its finished, you'll know the one.

What's going on? It looks like he's lost in thought...

Hrmm...

Huh? That voice— could it be...?

Are these ~~Kiyotaka~~ Ishida's inner thoughts?

You lift your head and look out at what's ahead of you. Brightness hitting every nook and cranny of the outside world, the sunlight, its warmth enveloping you like an embrace. You button up the last of your uniform, unbothered by the cool morning weather. You are a hard worker. Your teachers tell you so. Your father tells you so. It's as simple as ABCs! You walk down the halls of the school- it's your favorite school, it's high-tech and only for the talented! To show how thankful you are to be in such a wonderful establishment, you wave to the students, even those in the reserve course. "Let's do our best, so that we can feel the warm sunlight on our skin as we walk home after the bell rings, and study diligently!" You call out, walking past an annoyed Leon Kuwata, turning up the music in his headphones to block out your voice. There could be cursing in the music he's listening to. All the popular music is about sex and money and drugs, it could harm a developing mind! You've scolded Leon about this before when he played music without his headphones on, just strolling down the halls with raunchy songs poisoning the school. As you charged to the Ultimate Baseball Star to snatch his phone from his hands, you saw Yasuhiro give him a high-five, and Mondo had his arm wrapped around the redhead's shoulder, smiling, friendly. Comfortable. And you _ruined_ it. You gave them all detention because you _felt like it_. Don't even try to deny this, Kiyotaka.

You saw a cat while walking down the street. You like dogs more, but you couldn't resist stopping your leisurely stroll to pet it. Life is about appreciating the little things, as you'd say, and no one would listen. The cat was in front of you, unafraid. It looked friendly. You kneeled down and your hand neared its head- that was the mistake you made, it hissed quieter than you've spoken in your entire life, and scratched your hand. It ran away. Left you to bleed, suffering alone, out in public. You used your last bandage on a girl that got stung by a bee; that brief contact of your hand on hers was the most you've gotten in that week. You're _starving_ for human interaction. Your father doesn't congratulate you when you score perfect on a test. Not anymore. He used to give you a hug, telling you how proud he was. Perfection is just the norm for you. You tell— fuck, you _yell_ that you're used to it! It's fine! Is it _really_ , Mr. Prefect? Your hand was covered in blood, you watched it for awhile like the idiot you are because you didn't know how to make it stop. The leisurely stroll continued, except for the remaining duration of it you had a hand in your pocket, a suspicious move from the esteemed prefect. You would rather bleed pretending it's nonexistent than dare trying to get what you desire. What you _earned_.

You don't want to be like your grandfather, but you are his spitting image. You don't dye your hair or get tattoos, which would differentiate you from him, because those are "stains" on the human body. Your body is a gift given to you by your wonderful parents! Your father did what he could, for a child as eccentric as you, for a grandfather that ruined the Ishimaru family name and sunk it into debt. If you asked Byakuya Togami, would he pay it off for you? Does he even regard you highly enough to do such a thing, or are you just another student to scoff at? You imagine yourself jumping into a pile of money, like how a child jumps into a pile of leaves. You will never be this successful. Byakuya had to work to inherit his family name. It's an _esteemed_ , luxurious name, if you had the chance would you trade yours for his? I wouldn't blame you. Ah, sorry, you wouldn't blame yourself.

The light of Chihiro's expensive laptop hurt your eyes as you craned your neck to get a better look at the nonsense on the chalkboard.

Toko and Byakuya must be on opposite ends of the classroom so that Toko cannot chase after him.

Celeste has a million dollars. She is " _comfortable_ ".

You were doomed from the start. Love, money, a sustainable income. All of these things which you will never obtain. Your badges mean nothing. Your medals mean nothing. You pound your fist to your chest, yelling to the crowd of students clawing at the metal plates, encouraging them. You were thanked "for being there for us", but were you really _there_? Your essence is irreplaceable, but a nuisance. Nobody wants to be around a stubborn loser obsessed with upholding his morals as a student, when that's all he is. There's no substance. Nothing to sink your teeth into. Kiyotaka Ishimaru worries about what he says, upholding a self-imposed standard that will be his downfall. You can stop this.

I played your game. I provided my answer and explained in full sentences. I know you, Kiyotaka. You loved Mondo so much you wanted him to be a part of you; now, you have me. Are you embarrassed, having your flaws thrown back at you like this in such a brazen manner? Acting out your inner demons feels good, it's a catharsis, a change of pace from looking after those tools dead set on their lazy beliefs. Rest your weary bones, stop introspecting. Accept that you **love** being me because you love Mondo. And you were sick of being leader. The only way you can love yourself is by having Mondo's spirit, I am Mondo who loved you which is why you have to allow me to love myself. Let me handle this.

I'm sorry, Makoto. I gave in.

How come none of them told you to shut the fuck up?


	2. Rebuttal Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the events of this chapter directly correspond with chapter six of don't hey me

School will be over soon. It is the immutable, unfeeling truth. It festers within you as anger, words in your textbook melding into gibberish adjacent to your own worthlessness. It's heartbreaking to you. So heartbreaking, in fact, that you wipe your eyes. It's just so unfortunate that the school's collective progression into learning will come to a stop, all for what? To waste time watching movies, playing video games, socializing and indulging in other hobbies? Hobbies are pointless. If you want to pass the time, you should study. You know they don't. Knowledge comes easily to them, for example, effortlessly winning a baseball game that strips you of worthless adolescent desires. _This_ is the truth you ogle at. It's in your irate face, all over you. The common high schooler does not consider being a "student" as part of their identity. The ringing bell has students pouring out of their classrooms. You stay in your own, cleaning up after them. A girl meddling on her phone is yelled at to leave. You _scare_ her, a tall, abrasive man yelling for a simple fault you deem to be a waste of a personality trait. Not admitting that you frightened her until she's alone in her room, indulgent in self reflection, she picks up her stuff and leaves, your impression on her as bad as her personal relationships. The truth is inescapable, and it ran down your cheeks, once, now blood on the green jacket that belonged to the man who just stabbed you, using a weapon you were trained to use for the sake of honor. 

You look at yourself in the mirror. Your features, predetermined, unable to be changed. If you wanted to, you could. That's just not who you are. It's _honorable_ not to get plastic surgery, you are a man of effort and authenticity! A thought occurs to you as you start shaving, would you like yourself more if you changed your face? Your bone structure, the color of your eyes, all of it so you look completely _new_ . No signs of "Ishimaru" in you anywhere but your DNA. Liquid laps at your boots. You look down, and it's _blood_ , rising and quickly flooding the room. Then, before you can do anything to stop it, someone yanks your head into it, causing you to sputter, gripping at the countertops, all the weight in the world pushing your head further into yourself; you drown in it.

You know better than to open your mouth underwater, don't you? So why are you doing it _here_ ? You realize this is a worthless effort, ceasing this immediately. It's searing hot, the taste of iron sharp on your tongue. Your life begins to flash in your eyes. All the time you spent studying the same topics instead of playing outside, entering Hope's Peak Academy for the first time aspiring to rise above the lazy geniuses and change the world. The love you and Mondo Oowada shared. It was too good to be true; you weren't good **enough**. Your eyes are squeezed shut not for survival, it's because you can't stand to be trapped within yourself. This blood is yours. You're diving deeper like it's a pool, feeling endless and infinite, but there is always a stopping point, right? Just as justice wins in the end, you plunge, treading forward to find a light at the end of the tunnel.

Something came out of your mouth just now. It was a mistake, something you hate, that will be ignored. The depth of this blood is so vast that you don't know where you're going, the maroon—

I said... I'm **not** diving deeper!

Enforcing yourself on others. For a man against such a thing, you are remarkable at being a menace. You think back to the girl you yelled at. Did she cry herself to sleep because of you? You're a despicable human being in ways you can't confirm. Your judgement is flawed. Now, you're... swimming, but not deeper, you're going _up,_ and you reach the surface of your own self. You're panting, quickly opening your red eyes, remarkably unbothered in the pretentious way that only you can embody.

ISHIDA! I've had enough of this!

You call out to nothing. You are alone.

How smarmy of you. When I created you, I didn't expect you to get so _cocky._

The pool of blood drains itself, as do your wounds. Your ugliness shines through, not just in your looks, but your personality as well. 

And here you are, standing before me as if you actually _matter._

This has gone on long enough, Kiyondo Ishida. I've had it up to _here_ with your meddling behaviour.

You raise your voice out of a need to make yourself known. It is a reasonable thought process in a crowded classroom; here, it is comedically stupid. 

Ishida is sweating. He feels each bead running down his skin, fearful. He will force his legs to lock together so they don't show how afraid he is. What Kiyondo Ishida pushed into the back of his mind is at the forefront; they are one and the same.

It's time for an exam. You must answer, even if you don't know the correct one right away! Question _one_ ,

With every step that Kiyotaka takes, Ishida's burning fear grows. He raises his hands up, not for defeat, it is instinctual. He will stab himself with a million spears to maintain the position he has in this stream of consciousness.

The halfwit who blindly follows regulations is actually going to do this. He has already resigned, creating a mental compass to lead the way. He is lost within himself. A maze, if you will, the way out that compass in your ungrateful palm. The compass that is me.

Why did you try to kill someone?

Kiyotaka points at Ishida. He replies in the only way that he can: lashing out.

You realize this is a worthless question. Remember what I said earlier, about you being worthless? It all connects. Connects, like... strings. You keep expanding your strings, tying me up... fuck, this doesn't make sense! **I hate you!** I am under no obligation to answer that question.

Ishida, stop this.

Why is it so wrong for me to be anything more than your **fucked up** coping mechanism?

At this sign of repulsive vulnerability that isn't manly at all, you realize that you made a critical. Fucking. Mistake. You were standing on the floor, which only made its existence known right at this convenient moment. And that floor... disappeared, causing you to fall through it, out of sight. You land in a mirror maze, the multicolored bulbous lights attached to each individual mirror giving the maze a vibrant look. You see yourself from all angles.

Kiyotaka Ishimaru sighs, he will have to play along with this game. He stands up. It is time.

You begin making your way through the mirror maze. You, being the dimwit you are, thought that sprinting forward would be a good idea, and you slam against a mirror almost cartoonishly so. You make a pained noise in that voice of yours- your loud, annoying voice— pulling away. That isn't going to stop you. No, of course not. An Ishimaru doesn't know when to quit. An Ishimaru allows a scandal to ruin his life. I will use a metaphor that you— yes, _you,_ because I am me and me does not have any relation to _Kiyotaka Ishimaru_ , will understand. It's like mixing together the wrong chemicals for a science project. You pour them into the flask and bubbles begin pouring out, then, an explosion occurs. Everyone is staring. They will never forget this, will joke about it until that joke spawns a rumor and a rumor blows up in your face. That rumor will become the truth. Just like how, when a man who lost his loved one that shone like a diamond until his very last moments breaks down, he starts thinking. They say thoughts become actions. In this case, you created a new spirit. That failed science experiment created a new compound.

The compound, the compass, me.

Still trying? Feeling your surroundings isn't doing shit. You're going so slow. There is no concept of justice here. It is a limitation beckoned by this putrid self-righteousness drilled into you down to the flesh and blood. Do you know how much of your life was predetermined? You are as much of a condemnatory freak as Takaaki and Toranosuke. Mondo was never judgemental. He was handsome and charming. He shouldn't have been executed for a mistake he regretted to the grave! It's the programmer's fault for being so weak. There were opportunities to change all _around_ . It's selfish of them to deny working out, then cry about being weak like a little **bitch**!

Chihiro was not weak! Don't **ever** say that about my friends!

Oh, look. You bumped into another mirror! You suddenly think, 'those are not my friends. They hate me. I am nothing more than a gimmick and a number to fill an empty seat.' You scramble to navigate the maze. Its harsh lights are burdens on your eyes. Red, for the fiery love Mondo gifted you. Green, the transactional friendship Makoto lived by. That doesn't matter to you, does it? You're ignoring the details, the symbolism. It is why you are unable to find a path, going in circles, every floor tile looking exactly the same. Your frustration peaks. You're an emotional freakshow, it's _revolting_. So you cry, eyes filling with tears, staining the floor beneath you. 

No. I can't— I can't give up. I'm just not thinking straight.

Kiyotaka wipes his eyes, stifling a whimper. He looks ahead determinedly, continuing his search for the exit.

Your vision is blurred by your tears. The compound was an act of rebellion against the mastermind themself. They wanted you to despair. Perhaps you are, inwardly, but isn't everyone in this damned school? You've been remembering things. The science experiment ended, but its findings make way for discoveries. A school life of normalcy. Drilling your flag into the ground upon being in fourth place, joyously swimming past your classmates, cheering the people you called your friends on as they ran. Things in your head are clicking, like a puzzle completing itself despite your objections to do it "authentically". _Please._ You couldn't bat the memories away even if you wanted to— it's a warmth adjacent to sunlight. The faces of Mukuro Ikusaba and Junko Enoshima are striking, memorable, you can't say that for yourself, as you are faced with dozens of reflections. You wish one would reach out to you and pull you in, replacing you to weigh your burdens on his unwitting shoulders. He'd be kind to you, never wanted to be like you, because if he had free will and awareness of how fucking **broken** you are, why would he? Your authoritative stance is the closest thing you got to originality. A diamond's beauty outweighs the grief that copy of you would endure. It deviates as far from the ugliness of debt as that copy would be privileged to, a guiding light, the tender, euphoric love he was built from fueling his existence. That's ugly, isn't it? Nobody cares what a clone thinks. Not when it feels emotions more complex than the original, not when it grows a spine, not when its _hair literally turns white_ **_you shit for brains_** —

I get it! For the love of god, I get it!

Kiyotaka pulls his hair. Isn't it ironic how a man said to be ugly is honest-to-god beautiful, even in such a state? Diamonds lose their luster one way or another. 

You turn around, and a brand new reflection is in front of you. You freeze in fear. You turn your head away; I get it, you can't stand to face it, either. Thankfully, a nudge in the **right direction** is all it takes. A pair of hands clasp themselves on your cheeks, dragging your gaze to the mirror. There is no possible way to avoid looking at it. Cease your judgemental attitude for a fucking second. See what I see, Kiyotaka.

This is who you could have become.

The well-kempt uniform of yours is black and white, just like Monokuma. It's unmistakable _you_ factor is the first alarming thing about this reflection. He's wearing a hat with a Monokuma pin on it. His stern, unforgiving expression gives the vibe that his idea of punishment extents beyond phone confiscating and detention, facial features exactly like yours, down to the bone structure and pigment of your red eyes. He's wearing epaulets, a dead giveaway of his authority, and a cape, too. The katana you have been trained to master is strapped onto his back, _for what reason?_ With success comes sacrifices. If that sacrifice is loss of empathy, then you really can't judge this reflection for abandoning it. All you wanted was to help. You know that restoring faith in the Ishimaru name is a superficial reason, one used to justify yourself to your antsy father. As you stare into this reflection, his frown, his straightened spine, you come to realize that he is far more admirable than you. He crafted his nation to perfection. Plunging the world into despair was the only true way to nurture it into something great, something _exciting_ , an essay you could turn in with pride burning in your chest because you can already see the A+ written on it in bold red. His actions were disgusting, yes, but don't the others view you the same as him? Obsessive over rules. Workaholic. Having a bit of cruelty is all it took for him to become powerful, corporate, memorable. Staying after school to clean up a messy classroom, for example, will never get you as far. They knew how hard you worked to keep it clean, but they stuck gum underneath the desks and brushed off pencil shavings onto the floor because they knew your desire to help was exploitable. You have a right to be sick of it. If anyone were in your place, they would fucking snap, just as I have. 

The katana is being grasped now, the grip pattern familiar on your hands. All your life, you've been helping others who didn't want nor deserve it, making pathetic attempts at socialization to "get" people. Every time, your cluelessness grew. A warm feeling blossoms within you, one you have never truly felt until now: _Understanding_. If you can't relate to others and vice versa, doesn't it make sense that your only connection is with someone who was born from you, sees every instance of you in shards that cut him open and force him to grieve, to repent for being you, embodying your stupid desires and a tender love snatched away before he had a chance to experience it for himself? That's the reason you made me, isn't it. The reflection mimics your movements, so while you move your arm, he is holding his katana. You ball your hand into a fist. Wait, _what are you doing_ —

STOP IT!

Kiyotaka punches the mirror. He winces as it shatters, glass shards flying out. One of them cuts into his cheek, blood leaking out, teeth bared with the sheer effort he put into that punch. The world around him, the world Kiyondo Ishida used as an example, begins to evaporate, the details becoming blurs as Ishida panics. The mirror disappears, as do the shards and the lights. He is faced with Ishida, alone. They are completely isolated within each other.

The Ultimate Moral Compass leaps. He outstretched his arms. In this sea of black and white, the blood oozing from Ishida's wounds is all the more apparent. Ishida did his best to hide it, like he was unbothered. He pretended to be unbothered by many things. He remains in stunned silence, frozen in place. Kiyotaka is lunging for him, empathy in his bright red eyes, spotting every single wound on the other man. He embraces Ishida.

What the—

His voice comes out hollow. In this sea of nothingness, they begin falling, descending into nothing, reality splitting apart. Kiyotaka's eyes are shut, clinging to the other male.

I can't do anything. You wanna keep falling as if we'll ever land?

There's no need to make things up anymore.

Tch. You haven't budged, even after all I did? I was fighting for my life, out there. Like you would ever know.

Ishida, it is okay. You don't need to lecture me any more. You were all my fault! I should never have abandoned my own self!

Stop sucking up to me! I'm terrible! **You're** terrible! I am despised because I was built off of you; if I were around before Mondo died, you can fucking bet that I'd steal him from you! Bastard!

Kiyotaka pats Ishida on the back. He falters. Rage overcomes him, pulling his fist back, then punching Kiyotaka in the face, tearing him away from the Ultimate Energetic. Kiyotaka makes a pained noise, balance dismantled. He is now standing across from Ishida, struggling to his feet. Ishida glares at him with hatred that he could only feel for himself.

You make me sick. It's the only logical reaction someone in your shoes can have to your personality. All this shit you're spewing is meaningless! You just want to get rid of me! Maybe, if you actually cared for your "friends", you wouldn't have done this. You don't deserve another chance.

Ishida…

Everything I've done is justified, that's that. There's nothing else to add. You remember when Makoto tried to get you to eat, preparing that bento box you liked, but you didn't so much as open your pathetic mouth? It was my first conception. You haven't changed a bit since then. Still judgemental. Still an asshole. Still a rule-abiding freak that won't let people breathe without you getting into their business.

I WANT TO CHANGE! _I want_ — I know that I am in the wrong. Every time I say something weird or socially unacceptable I'm painfully aware of it. I made you to run away from my problems and seek catharsis through you. You're bleeding out as I just ruminate on myself, and I'm _so_ sorry, if there is any way that I can make it up to you, please let me know! If we live, we can end this killing game once and for all with our memories. I have plans for the future that I wish to fulfill with you by my side.

Ishida grumbles, averting his eyes, kicking his shoe in the dirt that hasn't been conceived of.

Just because I'm part Mondo doesn't mean that I have to care about you…

You don't need to. You've been through more than I would wish upon anyone. If you didn't exist, I never would have confronted with my flaws in the same way I'm doing right now. You are important to me, Ishida. You're not despicable, wretched, or anything of the like.

What is wrong with you? I'm scum. Far better than you, that's for sure.

Ishida is losing his fire. Kiyotaka is fully standing up, approaching the weak Ishida, who has a hand on his stomach to block the stab wound on it.

You had no choice but to exist. I can see how much you're suffering. I may not share your experiences, but I can empathize with you.

The slouching Ishida loses his cool even further as Kiyotaka gives a compassionate smile. Wind blows, Kiyotaka's uniform swaying. Maybe it's frightening that the one person the former cast away isn't angry with him. Maybe, he is afraid of the very real possibility that he will lose, not hating that as much as the thought originally gave him.

What… is the meaning of this? Why are you— you're going to take on my issues? You're talking like you're gonna make everything okay!

Because that's what a prime minister does. He makes his people feel safe.

Kiyotaka holds out his arms. A ray of yellow light shines down on him, keeping Ishida in the dark. His warmth is nothing short of welcoming, tone calm and nothing like his usual tenacity. 

I promise you that if you give me another chance, I will ensure another incident never occurs again. Our shared existence will be fruitful and prosperous. I'm never abandoning my friends or responsibilities ever again.

But— you, Mondo—

He's looking for excuses now. Fear is still gnawing at him, eating up all other train of thought. He decides to push it all aside. Ishida wobbles into Kiyotaka's embrace, tears falling from his face, ruining his eyeliner and getting on Kiyotaka's uniform. The only other person that bothered to care... is he thinking of him?

I get why those two were so in love with you, now…

Embracing each other until the very end, Ishida feels himself dissolving. He's not scared, not when he has been wholly accepted. Every atom is absorbed into Kiyotaka like a magical spell, back to where it originated from. During his last moments, Ishida laughs for a final time. Except it won't be his last. He will be a part of Kiyotaka just how Kiyotaka was a part of him, experiencing things he never got to. It's not taking a back seat, or hiding away. It's showing all of yourself for who you really are, existing through each other. Kiyondo Ishida will never be hurt again. It's a fact that Kiyotaka can live by, sighing in relief when the last of his other self vanishes. He smiles, thoroughly refreshed.

You won't regret your choice, Ishida. I promise you.

He puffs out his chest and pumps it with a strong fist, ready to take on the world. Own up for what he's done, looking beautiful all the same. It's about time he woke up.

And so he does.


End file.
